


Embraceable You

by trancer



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trancer/pseuds/trancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel‘s sick. Quinn takes care of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embraceable You

Quinn always considered Rachel Berry one giant, petulant, spoiled and whiny baby.

And then Rachel got sick and Rachel Berry became an even bigger giant, petulant, spoiled and whiny baby. Quinn understood Rachel better now than she did then.

Quinn had been living with the Berry’s for almost two months now, in an act of sudden and random generosity Quinn tried not to think to much about because the mere thought made her cry. Actually, many things made her cry these days and mostly at the drop of a hat.

In the beginning, there was the awkwardness as Quinn integrated herself into the Berry household. She tried to stay hidden away in her room as much as humanly possible but Michael and Ira would have none of it. Through them, Quinn learned about Rachel. Where she got her stubbornness, Ira. Her ambition, Michael. Her love of Broadway, both of them. The Berry household was a place that embraced unconventionality, called it home and, for reasons Quinn still couldn’t comprehend (because she’d start crying if she did), invited Quinn inside and made her a part of it.

A home that included one Rachel Berry. Rachel was still Rachel, but as Quinn became accustomed and got to know her better, just a little less insufferably.

Quinn quietly entered Rachel’s room, carrying a tray of chicken soup, a bowl of cold water and another box of Kleenex. The only thing visible under the massive pile of blankets was a hand holding a crumpled tissue. Quinn thought and felt many things about Rachel. She never thought in a million years she could feel sorry for her but she did. As someone who fought so hard to maintain control over every aspect of her life, there was nothing worse than being betrayed by something so intimate - one’s own body.

She sat on the edge of the bed, setting the tray down on the night stand. Rachel mewled softly, mumbling something incoherent and rolling onto her back. Quinn placed the back of her hand on Rachel’s forehead and then her cheek. Her fever was still high but a little less than the temperature that had both Berry parents contemplating sending their daughter to the hospital.

Dipping a washcloth into the bowl of cold water, Quinn placed the compress against Rachel’s forehead, holding it there until the washcloth turned warm then re-cooling it in the bowl. She started the process again, this time on Rachel’s cheeks and neck.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Rachel murmured as her eyes slowly opened. Michael and Ira had made Rachel’s room a veritable quarantine zone, one which Quinn was forbidden to enter on the fear she’d become sick and harm the baby.

“Probably not,” Quinn smiled softly, ignoring the weak protest and patting Rachel’s neck.

“Why are you doing this?” Rachel asked. Which was a strange question to ask, Rachel knew. She’d gotten to know more about Quinn Fabray in the past two months than probably anyone. But even after two months, Quinn still had defensive walls around her - thick, tall and impenetrable.

“Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of kindness.” She placed the washcloth on Rachel’s forehead, her eyes focused on her own fingers. “My mother used to do this when I was sick.”

Rachel blinked, lucidity cutting through her fever. “You miss her, don’t you?”

“For a long time now,” Quinn withdrew the hand on Rachel’s forehead, pulling it onto her lap and focusing on the fingers. “If you’re trying to make me cry,” she chuffed nonchalantly. “Forget it.”

Quinn had been thinking about her mom a lot lately. All the little things she used to do and how, slowly and over time, she’d stopped.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn shrugged.

Rachel rolled onto her side facing Quinn. Without thinking, she reached out, placing her hand onto Quinn’s stomach. Had she been thinking, she would have been surprised at Quinn’s non-reaction or that her hand hadn’t been immediately slapped away. Instead, she felt the warmth on her palm and watched her thumb as it slowly moved back and forth.

“When I was little,” she licked her lips, eyes far away, like a dream long forgotten and suddenly remembered. “I’d play the Carpenters at night and imagine it was my Mom singing me to sleep.” Rachel blinked, suddenly thrust back into the present. She quickly withdrew her hand, pulling it under her pillow. “Stupid, huh.”

“No,” Quinn gazed down at her. “It’s not.”

The moments ticked by, Rachel staring blankly at the wall and Quinn staring at Rachel. The lids of Rachel’s eyes became heavy and she slowly drifted back to sleep.

Quinn continued to sit and stare. Not quite ready to go back to her room, not quite sure why. Then, her body was moving before her brain could register just exactly what she was doing. She clambered over Rachel, lying down next to the brunette and spooning her from behind. With one hand, she propped up her head. With the other, she gently pulled the hair off Rachel’s forehead.

Rachel stirred. “What are you doing?” she mumbled.

“Shh,” Quinn whispered into her ear. “Go back to sleep.”

Rachel did as instructed, too exhausted to put up a fight. Quinn continued stroking Rachel’s hair, like Quinn’s mother used to do. Quinn began humming, like her mother used to. She wasn’t Karen Carpenter but, then again, neither was Quinn’s mother. Not that it mattered anyway.

Quinn began to cry.

**

A day and a half later, the Beast, as her father’s had started referring to her, entered the kitchen. She looked tiny and frail buried in her Dad’s terry cloth robe and Hello Kitty slippers. Her hair was a mess, her skin a sickly pale with dark circles under her eyes and still red nose.

Quinn sat at the island in the center of the kitchen, sitting on a stool as she did her homework. She stuck out her lower lip and pouted sympathetically. Because, if there was anyone who could be the epitome of ‘death warmed over’, it was one Rachel Berry.

“The kettle’s still warm,” Quinn said, already rising from her seat. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Rachel sat on the stool next to Quinn’s, propping her elbow on the counter and placing her chin on her hand.

Quinn chose Rachel’s favorite from the large variety of teas in the cupboard. She’d unwittingly become a scholar on teas and their affects on a singer’s voice because when Rachel liked to talk about a particular topic she never really shut up until she was done.

She filled Rachel’s mug, adding just the right amount of honey and a dash of lemon. “The Gleek’s asked how you were doing.”

“Liar,” Rachel said, taking the mug and holding it with both hands. “I already checked my email.”

Quinn took her seat next to Rachel’s as the awkward silence that was often between them filled the air. The Berry’s had two daughters now. But the phone calls, knocks at the door, invitations to movies, shopping or the occasional party were always to just the one. It cut Quinn to the core, the realization that the Glee kids merely tolerated Rachel and didn’t particularly miss her. It compounded with the guilt Quinn felt at having added to Rachel’s isolation. There would be a ‘discussion’ in Glee tomorrow, Quinn decided. A one-sided discussion in which she’d tear them all a new one. She might not have been the HBIC anymore but Glee had become a sort of family to her now, as much as the Berry’s. You were supposed to protect family.

Protecting Rachel, Quinn decided, had become Quinn’s job.

“They just don’t know you,” Quinn finally spoke.

“Which is weird seeing as how we’ve all known each other since kindergarten.” There was a bitterness in her voice but mostly a resigned acceptance. It’s just the way things were.

“Which will just make our ten-year high school reunion all the more sweeter when you’re a big star and we’re all, like, working at ‘Save A Lot‘.”

Rachel smiled coyly. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Psh-yeah!” Quinn snorted. “Like you’ll ever be a bigger star than me!”

Quinn smiled at having made Rachel smile. Rachel smiled back. And there was that awkward silent tension again. A different kind of tension Quinn couldn’t quite put her finger, one that had been building since the day she’d moved in with the Berry’s.

Rachel went quiet, her face turning serious. She set down her mug, unable to look Quinn in the eye. “Could I ask you a favor?”

“Sure?”

“Could you not..” she stammered, stumbling for the right words and wishing there was a song she could sing because singing what she thought would be so much easier. “When I said I dreamed my Mom sang to me? Could you not tell my Dad’s? It’d break their hearts.”

Quinn pursed her lips. She reached out her hand, meaning to clasp it around Rachel’s but pulled it back towards her before making contact. Only God knew how much Quinn ached for her own Mother, long before she’d been kicked out of her own home. “I think they would understand,” she finally managed to say.

“Maybe,” Rachel shrugged. “I just don’t want them thinking I missed out on something.”

“Do you think..” Quinn looked down, realizing the warmth on her stomach was from own her hands now caressing her stomach. “Do you think my baby will have parents as good as yours?”

“You want two gay guys to raise your baby? Because, honestly, my Dad‘s can totally arrange that.”

“No.. Yes.. I mean..” Quinn huffed, rolling her eyes because Rachel could get her flustered and tongue-tied at the turn of a pin. “Parents are supposed to love their kids, no matter what, right? I just want my baby to be loved.”

Rachel reached out, placing her hand atop Quinn’s. “You don’t have to give her away.”

“Yes, I do. Parents are supposed to love their kids, no matter what. Love them and keep them safe. I can love her.. maybe. But I don’t think I can protect her.”

“Safe from what?”

“Everything.” Was all Quinn could manage to say when what she meant was ‘me’. Kids learned by example. Quinn was pretty certain she’d had the two worst when it came to parenting. She stiffened, straightening in her chair, Rachel immediately removing her hand at the gesture.

“You should go back to bed,” Quinn said. “Your Dad’s’ll kill you if they see you up and about.”

“Okay,” Rachel sighed, already sliding off her stool. The trip to the kitchen and conversation having taken its toll on her barely returned strength. She shuffled towards the entrance, stopping and turning back towards Quinn. “Quinn?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna make a great Mom. If you love her, she’ll know.”

Quinn’s lower lip began to tremble as she felt the salt stinging the corners of her eyes. Damn hormones. “I hate you, you know,” she chuckled softly.

“It’s because, deep down, you know I’m going to be the bigger star.”

“Probably,” Quinn smirked. They stared at each other, another awkward tension filling the air. “Do you.. Do you think she’ll dream of me singing her to sleep.”

“Yes,” Rachel smiled widely before she turned to leave. “I do.”

**

Several hours later, after Quinn had brushed her teeth, washed her face and changed into her pj’s, Quinn did what she’d done the past three nights in a row - quietly slipped into Rachel’s room and climbed into the brunette’s bed. She didn’t sing to Rachel, hadn’t since that first night, merely spooned loosely behind her. The strangest thing of all, she found, was how ‘right’ it all felt. The girl she hated the most becoming the closest thing to family Quinn had felt in a very long time.

The Berry’s embraced unconventionality and opened their collective arms to Quinn.

Quinn openly returned the embrace.

END


End file.
